


Shadows of the Past

by provencepuss



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 15:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/863870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/provencepuss/pseuds/provencepuss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky is still haunted by Simon.</p><p>I wrote two versions of this story - one as gen and one as slash. <br/>I don't know which one works best for me - what about you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows of the Past

Shadows of the Past 

**This is one version of the same story written as genfic and as slash. If you are willing to read the slash story I'd like to know which one works best for you.**

 

  
It was happening again. Starsky was lost in his darkest moments. This time he was running; but he didn’t know where he was running or who he was running away from. But he was running away. He could hear him...them...it? Coming up behind him; getting closer but never quite close enough; but Starsky knew he had to keep running.  
There were certain constants. It was always dark in these dreams of pursuit; and he was always running. Sometimes he was dressed in Army fatigues; sometimes in jeans and a t-shirt – sometimes he was naked; but it didn’t stop him; he had to keep running. Stay ahead of the enemy coming up behind him; the unknown hunter tracking him down. He had to keep running from his worst, wildest dreams.

Starsky’s tossing and turning woke the pretty woman beside him. She looked at the tousle-haired figure lying beside him. Starsky’s curls were matted to his forehead and the sweat was beading on his upper lip; making the budding mustache sparkle in the moonlight that peeked through the slats of the shades. Cindy leaned over and touched her lover’s cheek.  
They’d been together for a month and she was getting used to Dave’s frantic terrified nightmares. She was a social worker attached to the psychiatry department of Memorial and, although she would never tell him, she’d seen his file.

Starsky shook his head from side to side and moaned in his sleep. He threw himself over onto his side and then tossed again to lie face down; his face buried in the pillow until he turned to one side gasping for breath.

Cindy traced her finger along Starsky’s strong jaw-line. “Hey…Dave…it’s OK…I’m here; you’re safe.”

Starsky’s breath was unsteady; he was breathless from running for so long. He had been running all through the night and the nightmare was still on his heels. He couldn’t stop – he dared not stop. He ran desperately searching for safety. 

Cindy sat up and looked at the strong back stretched out in front of her. Starsky was thin; his ribs showed despite the well-defined muscles of his back. Looking at the back of her boyfriend’s neck she could swear he could see the knots in the strap muscles running from his shoulders to the base of his skull. She started to work slowly. First stroking the muscles gently with the tips of her fingers; following their natural line from the insertion point at the skull to the shoulder. With each gentle stroke she felt the muscle begin to relax and ease back to its normal length. She started to knead the muscles gently; using her fingers to help Starsky to release his tensed shoulders.  
Starsky groaned; “hurts when you do that.”  
She kissed the nape of Starsky’s neck and whispered “you’re doing fine; your shoulders aren’t in your ears anymore.”  
Starsky giggled; “beginning to feel better.”  
Cindy continued massaging and stroking until she could see that Starsky’s neck and shoulders had relaxed again. She kissed him again. She traced her fingers around the outline of Starsky’s shoulder blade. The scars were less livid now but they still stood proud against the surprisingly smooth tanned skin. She’d read the file and Starsky had told her the whole ugly story of how he got those scars.  
“Do they still hurt you?” She said as she kissed each one.  
“Sometimes…they kind of itch and then they get sore. I guess something is still healing inside.”  
Cindy continued her journey. Starsky’s hips were sharply outlined even from behind; and she stared at his body for a second. Starsky’s tight muscular butt was there before her and it turned her on. She kissed one of the buttocks and slipped her hand under Starsky’s pelvis to find his cock. Starsky had a hard on and Cindy held it gently in her hand before beginning to work him to a full erection. She was getting wet and she wanted him badly. Starsky was emotionally fragile right now and the slightest thing could make him withdraw or lose it. Something told Cindy that this was one of those moments as she felt Starsky collapse in her hand. She dipped down to kiss just below the curls at the nape of Starsky’s neck. “You OK?”  
“I guess I’m just not in the mood.”  
“Sleep. I’m here beside you to keep the ghosts away.”  


She rolled over and wrapped herself in his embrace and they slept – dark curls against golden skin.  


He was safe. He took refuge in Cindy’s embrace and half-opened his eyes.  
Cindy looked into the deep blue eyes as they fluttered open and she saw the raw panic that her new lover was going through. She kissed him gently on the cheek. “It’s over, Dave. The nightmare is over.” _For tonight._

Starsky snuggled against Cindy’s soft body. He searched for a kiss and was rewarded with the soft touch of her lips on his own. Cindy felt Starsky’s body relax; she snuggled closer to him and waited. Starsky opened his eyes and smiled. “Thanks.” He kissed her on the cheek. “I feel safe now; should I?”  
“Aren’t I the one who should ask that?” she smiled as she spoke and stroked his face again.  
“Mmm; let’s see.” He pulled her into his arms and turned her gently on to her back. He kissed her and she felt his tongue as it inched its way between her teeth and started to entwine itself round hers. She responded and found the ridge that Starsky said was ticklish – just behind his upper teeth. Starsky started his journey down her soft body. He kissed her once more on the mouth sucking her lower lip until it began to throb. He kissed her throat, flickering his tongue against her skin and then moved on to her breasts. He took one nipple between his lips and nibbled gently. He could feel the tremor of arousal in her body. He looked up and smiled. “You like that huh?”  
“Yes...oh yes.”  


Starsky liked to work slowly. He got pleasure from giving pleasure and he had learned Cindy’s sensitive zones by heart. He licked gently between her round firm breasts and traced the line down her belly to her navel. He flicked his tongue into the tiny dent on her belly and she giggled. “That tickles!”  
She grabbed his cock and started to gently run her fingers along it, feeling it swell and harden in her palm. Starsky hesitated and then nuzzled his way to his prize. Her hair was as silky there as it was on her head and he let his tongue find its own way. She began to wriggle and moan as he licked her most sensitive spot. She grabbed his head and pulled him in to drink the sweet wine.  
“Ready?”  
“Ready.”  
He pulled himself up and lowered his hips against hers. She felt his cock as it pushed into her and she rose to meet him. They made love slowly, Starsky waited for her to join him before releasing his orgasm. She cried out as she came and dug her fingers into his shoulders. He lay sated and happy, smiling into her face. He kissed her gently and said “sweet dreams” before he dozed off into the post-coital sleep that was free of all nightmares. Cindy slept with her head on his chest.  


  
************************************************

  
The next morning Cindy woke to the smell of freshly brewing coffee. Starsky was already in the shower and the cut-offs and running shoes by the bed told her that he had been awake a long time.  
Starsky appeared in the doorway. He was toweling his hair and again Cindy noticed how thin he was. It was as if she could see the uneven surface of cracked and healed rib bones. Starsky noticed her gaze.  
“Can’t take your eyes off me huh?”  
“I was just thinking…”  
“Don’t! Get up and have breakfast or I’ll be late for court. You have to get to work and I have to go collect Hutch.”

Starsky drove into the parking lot behind the County Court building and slid the Torino onto a spot marked ‘reserved Police’. As they got out of the car an attendant came over.  
“Hey can’t you read…that is a police parking spot.” Starsky deadpanned him and flipped his wallet. “Guess what I do for a living.” The two cops walked into the building laughing.  
They arrived on the floor where the hearing was being held and Starsky winked before nipping into the men’s room. Dobey was already waiting by the court-room door. Hutch shrugged off a demon and went to join his Captain.

Dobey watched as Starsky disappeared into the men’s room. Hutch caught his eye and knew exactly what the Captain was thinking – he was too. The last time they’d been in court on this floor Starsky hadn’t come out of the men’s room. He’d been kidnapped and subjected to more humiliations than he was willing to admit –even to Hutch. And here they were again. The two men exchanged glances and Dobey wiped the sweat off his face.  
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking aren’t you?”  
The door opened again and Starsky came sauntering towards them. He winked at Hutch and smiled at his Captain. “I’m ready.”  
Hutch and Dobey weren’t witnesses in the case; Hutch stood next to his partner for a second and touched his arm in a friendly reassuring gesture.  
“I thought for a moment you might not come out of there.”  
“So did I.”  
Hutch went to join Dobey and Starsky sat and waited and tried to put the demons to the back of his mind.  
 _I can outstare you Simon…you can’t win…. Check mate._

He hadn’t told Hutch everything about what they’d put him through in the old zoo. He hadn’t told the police doctor either – he didn’t want to reveal more from an examination than he needed to know. They’d hurt him; tortured him. It wasn’t just the pain; but the humiliation of being raped and abused in front of the woman he was then forced to rape in his turn. He stared at the door to the men’s room and tried not to remember the first attack.  
The clerk came out to call him and he stood up slowly; gathering his mind back to the here and now and the testimony he had to give. He’d been over it so many times but Starsky knew that one slip of concentration; one tiny discrepancy in his testimony and the defense lawyer would have his client back out on the streets.  
He walked down the aisle to the witness box and glanced for a moment at the accused. The inverted cross was still a livid scar on Jason’s forehead; Jason tried to meet Starsky’s gaze – but he couldn’t and he ducked his eyes away.

Hutch listened as Starsky answered each question calmly; his voice was low and twice the judge asked him to repeat himself. The DA was satisfied with Starsky’s answers and the defense lawyer rose to speak. Jason raised his eyes and smiled at Starsky but once again the piercing deep blue gaze defeated him. Jason didn’t have his master’s power…and even his master had finally lost to Starsky’s eyes.

“Detective Starsky; would you like to tell us when you first encountered my client?”

Hutch saw Starsky tense slightly. The DA stood up. “Objection, your honor; this has no relevance to the case being heard here.”  
The judge leaned over to Starsky and asked in a whisper “does it?”  
“No your honor; not unless we have to go back over the kidnapping at the time of Simon’s trial.”  
“I don’t see why we should do that.” She raised her voice. “Objection sustained.”  
Starsky relaxed a little. The attorney tried another tack.  
“Would you say that you have a personal reason to accuse my client of rape?”  
“Yes, I would. I’m a cop and it’s my job. Is that personal enough for you?”  
“Nothing more personal officer?”  
Hutch sensed Starsky’s tension. He saw the flash in his partner’s eyes and he sent up a silent prayer that his impetuous and fiery-tempered friend wouldn’t get a citation for contempt of court.  
“You want the details? Is that what you get off on; hearing the sordid details that do not have to be in the court record for this particular case?” As he spoke Starsky’s voice got slightly louder but every word was weighted, tempered and evenly placed for maximum effect. Hutch watched as the Judge leant towards the witness box again, he couldn’t make out what she was saying but he saw Starsky nod.  
“I think we should discuss this off-record.”  
“Yeah.”  
The judge turned to the court room. “I’m calling a ten-minute recess while I speak with the witness.” The clerk called the court to rise and judge and witness disappeared into the room behind the court.  
Exactly ten minutes later the court re-settled into place and Starsky returned to the stand. The judge spoke quietly.  
“This trial is about the accusation that the defendant Jason Sears raped and tortured to death two young women for the purposes of his rituals in honor of the prisoner Simon Marcus. The witness, Detective Starsky, was asked if he had personal reasons for wanting to see the defendant convicted; although this question may not appear to have direct relevance to the case and after discussion with Detective Starsky we have decided that his evidence although not direct to the case is relevant to the understanding of the charges brought against Jason Sears. Detective Starsky has agreed to give his testimony before a closed court. I shall now ask the clerk to clear the court room of all persons not connected directly with the hearing.”

She waited while the journalists and court artists, members of the public and other witnesses left the room. Hutch and Dobey remained seated behind the DA. The jury members looked slightly uneasy, as if they knew that they were about to hear something that they didn’t want to. The judge addressed the lawyers. “There will be no questions, no cross-examination, nor comments from you gentlemen. Detective Starsky’s testimony will be written into the court record but it will not be made available to the press.” She turned to Starsky and smiled reassuringly. “When you are ready.”

Starsky sipped from the glass of water in front of him and moved to adjust his position in the chair. Hutch knew that his legs were at perfect right angles to his body and the floor; his back was ramrod straight; his hands on his knees and he stared out at the court room. Hutch knew that his friend was using the old actor’s trick of looking at a space between two people and not seeing his audience. Starsky’s voice was even and low – but everyone in the room heard him clearly. _He’d have made a great actor._

“Four years ago Hutch and I were assigned to a case that involved ritual killings. Although no-one had realized it at the time there had been a series of cases across the mid-west and the west; kids disappeared and were found dead a few days later. It was only when a child we knew,” Starsky sipped from his glass again and opened his eyes slightly to emphasize what he was about to say, “ _a child with special educational needs_ , was kidnapped that we realized that the murderers were traveling with a circus. We managed to save the child and bring the leader of the group and some of his followers to court. The day that Simon Marcus was to be sentenced his followers kidnapped me.  
They took me in the men’s room, right here in his court house. They beat me. I was abused sexually, including forcing me to do certain things with one of their women. I had and still have every reason to believe that the woman in question was being punished for trying to help the child escape. I am ashamed of what they made me do to her; I can not and will not discuss it. Some of the group members beat me regularly. They had prepared me for what they called the final sacrifice when my partner finally found me. I was attached by the wrists – and it took a few days for me to be able to even hold a spoon to feed myself.” Starsky looked across at the jury. For the first time he addressed someone directly.  
“Because of what they did to me; of what _Jason Sears_ did to me, I have every reason to believe that he is guilty as charged. And yes, ladies and gentlemen of the jury; yes Mr. Wheeler; yes, your honor I have personal reasons for wanting to see Jason Sears convicted of the crimes he is charged with. Because I know what he is capable of and I know what his victims went through before they died.” He picked up the glass and drained it.

The silence was hanging in the air and Hutch felt that he only had to reach out to touch it. Wheeler looked uncomfortable and arranged his papers neatly before him. The jury members looked from Starsky to Sears.  
The judge broke the silence.  
“Thank you Detective. We will meet again tomorrow morning at ten. Mr. Wheeler you will have your chance to try to convince us of your client’s innocence.”

Hutch waited for Starsky. Dobey had gone to talk with the DA. They knew that it was more than likely that Wheeler was going to try to plea-bargain his client out of the worst sentence and Dobey wanted to be sure that he would not succeed.

Hutch put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Time to go home.”  
“Yeah.”  
“How are things with Cindy?”  
“Wonderful…absolutely wonderful.”

  
********************************************

Cindy was woken by Starsky moans. She propped herself on her elbow and saw that Starsky had rolled out of the bed and was huddled against the closet. He was still asleep and whatever he was dreaming was terrifying him. She knew that you shouldn’t wake a sleep-walker – but was Starsky a sleep-walker or the victim of his nightmares? Hutch had told him how Starsky sleepwalked when he was haunted by the pain of losing the last woman he had ever loved. Hutch had arrived at Starsky’s house one time and found him asleep on the kitchen floor hugging the teddy bear that Terri had left in Hutch’s care – Hutch had seen the look of misery in his friend’s eyes when he unwrapped Ollie and he couldn’t bring himself to take the bear away from the man that she found herself thinking of as a big but vulnerable teddy bear.  
She sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Starsky fought his inner demons. He had his arms up in front of his face as if he was protecting himself and he was pushing back against the closet door trying to escape his dreamed tormentor.  
“No…not again…I can’t…please don’t make me do that again.” He cried out like a wounded animal and pulled further back.  
Cindy slipped off the bed and crouched beside Starsky who was now trembling violently and rocking slowly; he continued to moan and plead; she reached out and touched Starsky’s hand. The effect was electrifying. Starsky screamed. “No don’t let him touch me…no…help…”

She slipped off the bed and put her arms around him  
“It’s over. I’m here and it’s just a bad dream.” Starsky nuzzled up to her like a child seeking comfort from his mother.

She held Starsky in his arms for what seemed like hours. Each time she tried to ease them back to the bed Starsky would panic and pull away. Cindy reached up and pulled the blanket off the bed; she wrapped it around his shoulders and pulled Starsky into the improvised tent. Soon Starsky began to relax and she tried to help him to his feet. This time Starsky allowed himself to be guided back to bed. Cindy arranged the covers again and watched over her man while he slept. The rest of the night passed without incident.

Starsky opened one eye and saw Cindy’s golden hair on the pillow beside him. He sighed and stroked the hair carefully. He was safe and it had all been a bad dream. He pushed himself against her back and was rewarded by a hand coming to find him. She gave his cock a friendly shake. “Good morning gorgeous; how do you feel?”  
“I don’t know. I feel like I cried all night.”  
“Not all of the night. Come here”  
She pulled Starsky towards him and he entered her almost immediately. They were locked at the hips and at the lips like erotic Siamese twins. They rose with the dawn.

*************************************

It had been a week since Starsky had given his testimony and he was getting thinner and thinner.  
Hutch was getting very worried and even Dobey and Huggy were noticing the change in the usually ebullient Starsky. He was distant and withdrawn; only speaking when directly addressed and answering as briefly as possible.  
Hutch had an idea that it was linked to the nightmares that wracked his partner every night. Cindy had already told him that for the last two weeks they hadn’t spent a night without Starsky waking up screaming or sleep-walking. 

Starsky watched as Cindy finished the preparations for dinner and slipped it into the oven. “Would it bother you if I said I wanted some time out?”  
She closed the oven door and turned to look at him.  
“No, not if that’s what you need.”  
“I do. In fact I think I need time out from everything. I’m thinking of taking some of the leave coming to me and just heading off someplace to think.”  
Cindy came and sat on the sofa. She put a hand on Starsky’s thigh; “are you sure you should be alone at the moment? I mean I’ll take a separate room if that’s what you want…but I don’t like to think of you alone.”  
Starsky mustered a smile and said in a heavy accent;” I _vant_ to be a _lone_.”

He told Hutch that he was putting in for some time off and going to take a break alone.  
“Alone?”  
“Yes, wipe that grin off your face buddy. Cindy understands.”  
“Ok, but listen, check in so we know you are OK.”  
“Hey what is this, you planning to put out an APB if I don’t call every day? Shit you’re worse than ma if I miss a Friday call! OK, I promise” Starsky didn’t sound that enthusiastic; but Hutch knew that his friend always held to a promise.  
Hutch touched Starsky’s arm affectionately. “Guess it’s because we both love you.”  
“Yeah, I know and I appreciate it.”

*******************************************************

  
Starsky had no intention of going anywhere, but he wasn’t going to tell Hutch that. He knew his friend and partner too well; Hutch would worry about him and fuss after him worse than his mom and Aunt Rosa put together. In fact Starsky was beginning to believe that Hutch was probably a Jewish mother in a former life! So he had it all planned. He had cleared the garage under his house and he could park the Torino in there away from prying eyes. Hutch believed that Starsky only rented the apartment – he had no idea that the garage was his too.  
Starsky slipped the car into the garage and cut the engine. He climbed out and gave the exhaust fumes a minute to disperse before closing and locking the door behind him. He skipped up the stairs to the apartment door and let himself in. He dumped his bag of shopping on the kitchen counter and whistled to himself as he put away the food that would see him through a few days of ‘time out’.  


He went to the bedroom and pulled off his jeans and t-shirt; he was peeling his underpants off as he went into the bathroom. He dumped everything in the laundry basket and took a long hot shower. He dressed in a pair of soft old jeans and a loose shirt and padded barefoot into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. He spooned the fragrant smoky Lapsang into the pot and waited for the kettle to boil.  
He selected a tape and slipped into his new tape-deck and soon the apartment was filled with the gentle harmony of Crosby Stills and Nash. He settled with his tea and a book and relaxed.

*****************************************

Dobey was waiting for Hutch. “I agreed to let Starsky take some time but that means I need to find you a temporary partner; and right now we don’t have many spare men available.” Hutch shrugged. “I can work on my own Captain.”  
“Ok; but you let me know if you need anyone to back you up; I don’t want you going into something alone…Starsky would never let me hear the end of it!”  
“Nice to know you care Captain.” Hutch grinned and Dobey smiled. “I’d also have Edith and the kids bawling me out.”  
Hutch knew that Dobey was trying to hide his concern for both of them. “How far have you got on the case anyway?”  


They had been working on the same case for over a month now. Not through any incompetence of theirs but because every time they thought they were getting close to the end someone moved the goal posts. It was a complicated murder case that was beginning to take on the sinister characteristics of a serial killer at work. Each time the corpse was found at a well-known spot that all LA tourists photographed from afar. Each body had been mutilated but never in the same way as before. Down in the morgue there was a macabre collection of what Starsky had grimly referred to as ‘spare parts’; the only trouble was that so far none of the spare parts fitted the corpses in the drawers. The first body was found without its head. Some kids found a head in a dumpster but it didn’t match the body. The next corpse had its head but was missing a hand. When a hand turned up it didn’t match either. And so it went on. They had three corpses and three ‘spare parts’ but no match. Starsky and Hutch had also been working on the final case against Sears; at first it seemed more than obvious that the two were connected – but the fourth corpse arrived two weeks after Sears and the rest of the group had been arrested. Corpse number four was missing its genitals. So far they hadn’t appeared.  
Hutch had been pretty surprised when Dobey agreed to letting Starsky take off; but he knew the Captain well enough to understand that his men’s welfare was important to him. So despite a major murder investigation Starsky was on leave.

Hutch sat at his desk and checked through all the reports and evidence that they had gathered over the past few weeks. He was looking to see what it was they could possible have missed. He spent the day at his desk – only breaking to go down to the canteen and eat a sandwich. When Dobey came out if his office with his hat perched on top of his wooly hair Hutch glanced at the clock and put down the folder he was reading.  
“See you tomorrow Hutch.”  
“Sure Captain.”

****************************************

Hutch opened the door of his apartment; he hung his jacket and holster in the back of the closet door and mooched into the kitchen to see what he had worth eating. It was what Starsky called one of Hutch’s ‘Old Mother Hubbard’ phases. He called for a pizza and opened a beer while he waited for delivery.

The ‘phone rang around eight pm.  
“Hi mom!”  
“Starsky, where are you?”  
“I’m in a motel dummie!”  
“Where?”  
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”  
“What are you doing?”  
“Watching TV.”  
“How are you feeling?”  
“I’ll be OK.”

Starsky hung up before Hutch could give him the third degree! He called Cindy and they had a long erotic conversation that left Starsky with a wet and sticky hand.

  
When Starsky woke the next morning the memory of his conversation with Cindy made him feel warm inside. He smiled and lay thinking about how lucky he was to have found her.  
He showered and decided not to shave then ambled into the kitchen for coffee and a toast. The day was ahead of him; he planned it carefully. He needed to get some housework done and deal with a week’s worth of laundry that had piled up.  
One of Starsky’s pet hates was having to do his laundry in public. He could be fiercely private when he wanted to be – as Hutch, and all his girlfriends, had learned to accept. When he had a little spare cash a while back, Starsky had bought a washer and drier and installed them down in the garage. He gathered up the contents of the laundry basket and slipped down the stairs hidden by what looked like a closet door in the back of his bathroom. Hutch still didn’t know about his arrangement – but Cindy really appreciated it. “I hate washing machines in the kitchen.” “Me too, and I don’t have room in the bathroom – so the garage is perfect.”

The hooded figure let himself into Starsky’s apartment. The Master had no trouble opening the door with the copy of Starsky’s key. He walked slowly into the apartment and looked around.  
He went into the kitchen and did what he had come to do. He slipped out of the door and locked it behind him just as Starsky came out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.  
His sharp hearing caught the sound of a click and he instinctively slipped to the side of the door before peering into the living room. There was nothing. He shrugged and took the vacuum cleaner out of the closet to start getting his house into order.

When the house was spick and span Starsky sat back and smiled  
He was beginning to feel hungry and most of all very thirsty so he wandered into the kitchen to get the stuff together for one of his special omelets. He served himself from the water cooler and started chopping and mixing. He took his plate to the couch and sat with it balanced on his knee; he flipped on the TV and saw that they were re-running one of the old western series that his dad used to take him to see at the movie theater when he wasn’t on duty on a Saturday afternoon. He ate and grinned at the hammy acting that had thrilled him when he was a kid.  
He washed his dishes and went back down to the garage to transfer the laundry from the washer to the drier. Coming back up the stairs he was forced to grab the railing as a wave of dizziness hit him. He held on for a second and took a deep breath before climbing carefully up the last few steps. He walked unsteadily into his bedroom and lay down. 

********************************************************

Hutch walked into the squad room. He had a deep gut feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t get a chance to think about it for much longer. Dobey was standing in the open doorway of his office and all the officers of the squad were gathered and waiting.  
“Now Hutchinson is here I can go on.” Most of those in the room took that as a sarcastic reference to Hutch’s almost chronic inability to arrive anywhere on time if Starsky wasn’t with him. Hutch picked up a different signal; whatever Dobey had to say was important and he needed to hear it first hand.  
Hutch started to pour a mug of coffee.  
“Marcus is dead!”  
Hutch dropped the mug.  
“What? How…I mean he was in high security…”  
“We’ll know after the autopsy. They found him on his bunk.”  
Hutch sat down. “Wait a minute Captain, why is it so important to gather us all together for that?”  
“Because we have reason to believe that some of his followers will try to avenge his death. There have been a couple of incidents.”  
“Incidents?”  
“The judge who sentenced him found a dead dog on his front lawn; the dog was wrapped in one of those cloaks they wear. And one of the courtroom guards who was on duty that day has disappeared…at least most of him has. Hutch we have a positive ID on the hand – it’s his. We have a team looking at the other victims downstairs trying to piece things together.” Someone choked back a laugh at Dobey’s inadvertent joke and Hutch instantly missed his partner’s weird sense of humor. He heard Starsky’s voice in the back of his head. _I dunno Hutch; why do I get the feeling that these killings are a message for me?_  
He was tracing absent-mindedly on a legal pad in front of him. “Has anyone checked that none of the other bodies and body parts we have down there aren’t people who somehow crossed Marcus at some time?”  
Dobey turned to two of the detectives in the room. “Baker, Richardson; get on to that right now.”  
Hutch smiled; at least Dobey had put two good men on the case…Dobey would tell anyone who asked that Baker and Richardson came second only to his dream team – Starsky and Hutch.  
Hutch looked down at the pad and realized that he had been drawing a picture of Starsky.

Dobey went back into his office and Hutch followed instinctively.  
“There’s more isn’t there Captain?”  
“Sears. At about the same time they found Marcus he started yelling that he wanted to see you.”  
“I guess I’d better go over there then. Is he still in LA County?”  
“Yes, they were supposed to send him upstate today but they’ll wait until you’ve seen him.”

**********************************************

Hutch sat in the room reserved for interviews with dangerous inmates. The buzzer sounded and the iron railings at the far side of the room slid open. Hutch watched as Sears walked into the room. Sears was dressed in standard prison fatigues and they hung loose from his skinny frame. His eyes were strangely blank but Hutch found it difficult to look at them directly.  
“The Fair One has come to hear the Master’s words.”  
“You’re not the Master, Sears. You are a simple pawn who got caught.”  
Sears stared at him and Hutch felt a chill deep in his heart. “The Master speaks through me now that the Dreamer is dead.”  
“Bullshit!” Hutch stood up and stared at Sears (without making eye contact). “Marcus was your leader and without him you’re another clown in a dumb costume who thinks he has powers.”  
“There are those who have powers and there are those who do not. The one who resisted has power. He will pay for his resistance and the Master will triumph.”  
Hutch turned that phrase over in his mind. _The one who resisted…who? Oh my god, Starsky!_  
“The one who resisted will triumph Sears.”  
“No. The Master has dreamed: the one who resisted will suffer for his impertinence and die; the fair one will not find him this time until it is too late.”  
Sears turned and pressed the buzzer that the prisoners used to signal that they had no more to say to their visitors. As the gate grated open Hutch ran up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders.  
“Look at me Sears. I’m not the one who resisted; but I will find my partner before it is too late.”  
“He will never be where you seek him. He will always be where you do not think to look.”  
The door closed behind him and Hutch left room.

Hutch sat in his car and thought about what Sears had said. Starsky had resisted Marcus’ gaze. He was still sitting thinking about what Sears had said when the radio brought him back to the real world. It was Mildred. “Hutch honey, are you there?”  
“Yes Mildred.”  
“I have a patched ‘phone call for you.” The radio beeped a couple of times and Hutch heard Huggy’s worried voice. “You need to see something here Hutch.”  
Hutch turned the key and sent up a silent prayer to the great mechanic in the sky that his car wouldn’t crap out on him now. The engine coughed into life and he drove off in a screech of tires and a cloud of gravel from the parking lot.

He parked in the alley and ran into The Pits. Huggy was sitting at one of the tables, staring at the mirror behind the bar. Hutch followed his gaze and sat down heavily.  
He’d been here before. Starsky’s name was daubed on the mirror with red liquid just like before; but this time there was a new touch. The coat-stand that Huggy kept by the door to the men’s room had been moved to behind the bar and it was draped with a hooded black cloak. The inverted red cross was reflected in the mirror and the distortion caused by the writing on the mirror made it look as if a hooded figure was standing behind the bar.  
Huggy touched Hutch’s arm bringing him back to reality. “I sniffed it Hutch; it’s paint. Look at the color again.”  
Hutch looked again and realized that the paint was the same distinctive Candy Apple Red Starsky had chosen for his beloved Torino.  
“What’s going on Hutch?”  
“I wish I knew.”

****************************************************

Starsky lay on the bed groaning. He felt as if his gut was twisting itself in knots. He’d already crawled to the bathroom twice and voided his gut. He dry-retched again and rolled onto his side and drifted into unconsciousness.

He must have slept for most of the day. When he woke it was dark. He felt weak and a little spacey; he needed something in his stomach. He sat up carefully and was relieved to find that his head wasn’t spinning. He walked carefully to the kitchen and made himself a slice of toast which he ate dry. He sat and waited to see what would happen.  
 _So far so good._  
He needed to re-hydrate and he took a glass from the shelf to serve himself from the water cooler. He remembered something a doctor had once told him. After a gastric attack like that the body needs sugars and salts. He found a coke in the fridge and sipped it carefully; he had some potato chips left over from the last time Hutch had been over for a game of Monopoly…he rummaged around in the cupboard and found them – they were stale but salty. He leaned against the counter in the kitchen and sipped and nibbled until he felt better. He went back to bed and managed to sleep for most of the morning.

  
When he woke he decided to take things quietly for the rest of the day. He lay on the couch with his Navajo rug wrapped around him and decided to spend the day watching soap operas and game shows. He wasn’t hungry but he made a few trips to the water cooler.

The ‘phone rang and he ignored it. He spent the day on the couch; dozing, watching TV and by the evening he felt well enough to try to eat. What he craved was his grandmother’s chicken soup; the miracle cure that had seen him through colds and tonsillitis and all the childhood illnesses. Even Aunt Rosa managed to make chicken soup resembling her mother’s recipe…when she didn’t curry it!  
He looked in the cupboards and found kosher soup cubes and a packet of thin noodles.  
He boiled a pan of water and cooked the noodles while the cube dissolved in hot water from the kettle; he drained the noodles and tipped them into the bowl. It wasn’t perfect; but it tasted good enough and he could feel it warming and calming his rebellious gut.  
He rinsed the pan and the bowl and turned in for an early night.  
He slept without making his calls to Hutch and Cindy.

*****************************************************

Hutch and Huggy were still staring at the mirror when Anita, the barmaid, came in through the back entrance. She stopped and whistled when she saw the mirror.  
“Hutch, your radio’s yelling into the alley out there; some guy sounds pretty mad that you aren’t in your car to answer.”  
Hutch ran out to the alley; Dobey’s angry voice was echoing off the trashcans and Hutch grabbed the mike through the open car window.  
“Yea, Captain, I’m here.”  
“Get over here NOW!”  
“Yes Captain. We need a forensics team over at Huggy’s place; someone left him a message.”  
“What kind of message?” Dobey sounded worried.  
“Like the one when Starsky was kidnapped…his name in red on the mirror and this time they added one of their fancy-dress costumes.”  
Hutch was already reversing down the alley as he spoke. He cut the radio and turned out into the main street before hitting his siren and speeding over to Metro headquarters.  
Dobey was sitting in his office looking grim. Hutch sat down and waited.  
“Marcus isn’t dead.”  
“What? But how…?”  
“They don’t know how he did it but he wasn’t dead; they took him to the local morgue and when the ME arrived to do the autopsy he was gone.”  
Hutch sat and stared into space. It didn’t make sense. Sears had talked as if there was an influence greater than Marcus…maybe Sears had been playing a game to try to take control of the followers left without their leader after Marcus was jailed.  
“I think I need to see Sears again.”  
Dobey picked up the ‘phone and spoke to someone. Five minutes later Sears was led into the room. He still wearing the prison fatigues and his hands and feet were shackled and these restraints were attached by a chain to a metal loop on a strong leather belt around his waist. He had a strangely subdued air about him; there was none of the challenging arrogance that Hutch has confronted in the prison only twenty four hours earlier. The guard shoved Sears into the chair next to Hutch.

Hutch turned to look at him closely. “Not feeling quite so powerful now that you know Marcus isn’t dead, are you?”  
Sears dropped his gaze.  
“It was worth a try.”  
“Just what were you trying Sears?” Hutch asked him with a slight tone of sympathy. The man was monster but now he seemed scared in his turn.  
“I thought that with Simon gone they would turn to me…they followed me when we had your partner, didn’t they? I thought if I made you think that I was working for a higher power the others would believe it too – and come to rescue me.”  
“But they didn’t, did they? Someone helped Marcus to escape instead.”  
“Yes, and now my life isn’t worth more than your friend’s.”  
Hutch sat back in alarm.  
“What does that mean?”  
“I told you, the one who resisted will be made to pay. Marcus never tolerated any opposition. Your partner resisted him and no-one – not even me – could do that. Marcus will want me dead for trying to take over – but not before he’s dealt with your buddy.”  
“What do you know?”  
“Not much.” Sears allowed himself a smile. “And I need to know how much it would be worth…like I said my life isn’t worth much right now; so I need protection…”

Hutch glanced at Dobey. Starsky’s life was in danger and Hutch needed all the help he could get to protect him. “What do you say Captain?”  
Dobey looked at his detective’s worried face. He knew how close the bonds were between Starsky and Hutch and he feared what Hutch might do if Starsky were to die. He was more sure of Starsky’s psychological tenacity than he was of Hutch’s and he knew that he had to protect the vulnerable blond sitting in front of him, his pale blue eyes pleading for a break.  
“Take Sears down to an isolation cell while we discuss this.”  
As he was led away Sears turned to Hutch. “I’m his only hope; this time you can’t save him alone.”

As the door closed Hutch leaned forward in his chair. “He’s trash Captain. You know what he did to Starsky – but if he’s the only one who can lead us to Marcus before…” His voice faltered. Dobey said gruffly. “Starsky can handle himself. But all the same I don’t like the sound of this.” He picked up the ‘phone and asked for a line to the Governor’s office. Hutch sighed and waited.

************************************************* 

The nightmares had come back.  
Starsky was hanging by a thread; a thin gossamer rope that the woman in the white robe was spinning above him. For a moment she looked like Cindy but her face changed and dissolved to nothing just a pale, blank mask. As she spun he was lowered further and further into the abyss. He dared not look down; his fear of heights made it impossible for him to even think of what was below him. He had caught a sight of the deep blackness as they lowered him over the edge.  
He struggled to climb back up the rope but it slipped between his fingers and he continued his inexorable descent to hell.  
He was shivering. Who said hell was fire? As far as he was concerned hell was full of ice! He could feel the cold beads of sweat forming on his body and as he glanced at his reflection in the mirrored walls of the cavernous drop he could see that his body was covered in goose bumps. He bumped against the wall of the abyss and jolted; the rope was breaking and he could feel himself falling.

He woke on the floor by the bed; he didn’t know whether he was shivering or trembling but the fear of his nightmare had brought him to the edge of his control…he staggered to the bathroom and retched helplessly. He stared at himself in the mirror over the sink. He was haggard and his stubble gave him the appearance of a hobo. He splashed water on his face and saw the dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes. He staggered back to bed and lay fighting the terrible cramps that suddenly flooded his abdomen.  
He searched desperately for sleep and tossed and turned until the dawn woke him.

He couldn’t face any semblance of breakfast; all he wanted was to drink water to relieve the dehydration that could so easily bring on one of his migraines. He served himself from the cooler and leaned against the wall sipping carefully. He drank three glasses of water before he felt capable of doing anything else. He could feel the dried sweat on his body; he went to the bathroom to shower off the nightmares and the fear.  
Under the hot water he still couldn’t shrug off the sensation of chilling fear. Something was wrong. Starsky knew instinctively that somehow he was under threat.  
He dressed in his sweat pants and a loose t-shirt and went to lie on the couch to think.

The ‘phone rang and without thinking he picked it up.  
“The one who resisted will pay the price. When he no longer has the strength to resist he will learn to beg.”  
Starsky snapped into the ‘phone. “Beg for what?”  
“Deliverance!”

He went to fill another glass with water and stood in the kitchen deciding what his delicate stomach might be willing to accept. He felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut by a carthorse. He settled on a toasted cheese sandwich and ate it carefully.  
An hour later he was feeling better; he decided to get some air. He slipped on a pair of old trainers and went for a walk up the canyon where he lived.  
He had to stop a couple of times and wait for the cramps to subside; but he walked for a couple of hours listening to the sounds of the wind in the trees and the odd cry of a wild animal. _I should have a dog…but then who’d walk it when I’m out on a forty-eight hour stake out? On the other hand if Cindy gets to be a permanent fixture maybe we’ll think about it._

**********************************************************

The Governor agreed to keep Sears in protective custody until Starsky was found. He postponed any other decisions about Sears’ future to until the detective was found safe and sound.  
Hutch was talking to Sears again.  
“What did you mean when you said he won’t be where I expect him to be? I have no idea where he is…he took off to clear his head.”  
“Look in the obvious places and you won’t find him…or will you?”  
Hutch looked at Sears sourly and told the guard to take him away.  
Hutch turned to Dobey.  
“The obvious places what the hell did he mean by that?”  
“Didn’t Starsky give you any idea where he might go?”  
“No. He just said he wanted to take time out.”  
“Where does he usually go? Come on Hutch, you know him better than any of the rest of us.”  
Hutch heard Starsky’s mocking voice. _“I know how where and when you eat walk sleep talk and I know who you know what you know and how you know it…” And I still don’t know all his secrets!_ “I guess I know a couple of the places Captain – I’ll go take a look.”  
“Do that; and let me know how you get on.”  
Hutch started to leave. Dobey called him back. “He hasn’t gone back to New York has he?”  
Hutch turned to look at the captain. “I don’t think so. Let me check a few things out first OK? If he isn’t in New York I don’t want to worry his mom.”  
Dobey smiled. 

Hutch drove to the quiet beach where he knew that Starsky liked to walk or run or just sit on a rock and stare at the ocean when the unhappiness welled up inside of him and threatened to take over his mind. The beach had recently been cleaned and the sand was smooth like a ski slope after the plows have flattened it for another day’s skiing. There were no tire marks, apart from his own, on the track. He turned back to the main road that ran along the coast and started back towards Venice and as he came to the intersection that led up to Starsky’s canyon he decided to try the wild card.  
The Torino wasn’t under the tree and Hutch smiled to himself. _He called you from a motel; did you really think his car would be here?_

***************************************************

Starsky had a feeling he was being watched. He walked home and checked the street; then grinned. The unmistakable smell of the exhaust from a badly tuned engine still lingered in the air.  
 _I should have known he’d come to check…_  
He was feeling a little stronger after his walk and he decided to grill the steak that he’d bought the day before. A steak and a baked potato – that shouldn’t upset his gut too much, especially if he kept it as low in grease as possible. He scrubbed a potato and put it in the oven and while it was baking he sat and flipped through his mail. There was a collection of flyers but only one envelope in the mail-box; and the first thing he noticed was that it didn’t have a stamp. He turned it over carefully and checked for a return address. No such luck. He reached over to his desk and picked up the paper knife that he used to neatly slit open his mail. He used the tips of his fingers to part the open envelope and shook out the contents. It was a photograph taken of him while he was held captive in the old zoo.  
He looked at his own eyes staring out of the photo apparently pleading for mercy. There was something written on the back of the photo. “The one who resisted will not resist again.”  
Suddenly he had no appetite for the steak and he decided to eat the potato with a little soured cream and chives. He cut a handful of chives from the pot that grew on the window ledge and opened the kitchen drawer to find his big chopping knife.  
It wasn’t there.  
He searched the drawer and checked the sink; but the knife had gone. He shrugged and snipped the chives into the cream with the scissors that he had used to cut them. He ate the potato standing at the counter. Something was wrong and he was beginning to feel uncomfortable. He served himself at the cooler and settled at his desk to run through his accounts.  
He’s been working for about five minutes when the cramping pains started again. He just made it to the bathroom before his gut voided itself.  
He took another glass of water and went to bed.  
 _I keep drinking all this water – but I’m not peeing…I guess it’s coming up instead of going down._

****************************************

The hooded figure was sitting opposite him. They were playing chess – but all the pieces were the same. He had to guess at the moves. Each time he moved a piece the hooded figure moved one too. They were playing a game that neither of them could win.  
He heard Hutch laugh. _I wish I’d never taught you how to play, Starsk._ But the laughter turned to a scream and when he looked again the figures on the chess board were miniatures…tiny replicas of himself and Hutch trying to defend themselves against a hoard of hooded figures. The chess pieces grew in front of him and he was surrounded. He turned to Hutch for help – but his partner was gone. He was surrounded by versions of himself through the years – and the hooded figures. He saw the move he had to make and stepped into the square. The hooded figure stepped to the square in front of him. He concentrated hard and saw that his ten-year-old self had stepped forward. The hooded figure moved again and this time a young man in army fatigues limped to take up his position. The hooded figure no longer had any moves open to him. He threw back his head and laughed. Starsky watched as his other selves dissolved into thin air. The hooded figure stepped into the final square.  
“This time it is my check mate.”  
Starsky woke trembling and sweating. He was lying on the couch. He sat up slowly…  
…and saw the chess set on the table. The white king lay on its side and a hooded figure took the place of the black queen.  
He stared at the chess board and reached out for the glass of water on the table. He felt sick and dizzy and after draining the glass he went back to bed.  
 _Too late to call Hutch….he’ll be impossible tomorrow!_

********************************************************

Simon Marcus looked at the young woman kneeling in front of him.  
“I have dreamed that Jason must die. You will be the instrument of my dreams.”  
“Yes Simon.”

  
The guard looked at the pretty girl standing in front of him.  
“I think maybe my brother is a prisoner here.”  
“I’m sorry ma’am but I only have one prisoner and it’s strictly no visitors.”  
She wiped away a tear and he noted how sweet and old-fashioned she seemed in her neat skirt that came just below her knees and a high-necked sweater. So different from the short skirts that all the women – cops and hookers – seemed to wear around this place.  
“You see, our parents…” she sniffed and pulled a hankie out of her purse; “they were killed in a car accident a few weeks ago and I’ve been searching for Jason ever since. He’s all I have left in the world.”  
The guard looked at her. She was so distressed that he relented.  
“OK, Listen, I’m not supposed to do this, but you can have five minutes with him. No more, you understand?”  
She managed a smile and he led her to Jason’s cell. As he walked away he heard the prisoner say “What are you doing here?” and he decided to leave them alone with their loss.  
Five minutes later the young woman came to thank him for his kindness before disappearing into the city streets.

It was time for the prisoner’s lunch. The guard on duty took the tray to Jason’s cell. The clatter of the tin tray echoed around the cell area as he ran to the ‘phone on his desk.

Hutch punched the button that was flashing on his ‘phone. “Hutchinson!”  
“It’s Mason, the guard down in the holding cells. Sears is dead.”

****************************************************

Hutch was still worrying about why Starsky hadn’t called him; he’d missed his friend’s call the night before. But he’d been to The Pits and made a new conquest and they went back to her place. Her name was Coral and Hutch was too busy stranding himself on her reef to think of Starsky that night.

The call from the cells brought him back to the present with a jolt. It also put all thoughts of Coral out of his mind and brought a vision of Starsky huddled and trembling into focus. He knew that Starsky was in trouble and he had to find him. They had a sixth sense that had developed long ago and right now Hutch’s indicators were all set at red alarm. He burst into Dobey’s office just as the Captain was about to come out to find him. They collided in a flurry of papers as files fell to the ground. Dobey grunted and said “Come in and sit down.”

Hutch wanted to know how Sears could be dead. “He was supposed to be in isolated protection Captain!”  
“I know that Hutch! It seems that his sister came to see him…”  
Hutch interrupted. “He didn’t have a sister. He didn’t have a family – he grew up in Juvenile Hall.”  
“Apparently the guard didn’t know that. She ran him a story about their parents being dead and he let her in for five minutes. Just long enough for her to kill him.”  
“Sears must have known her…he must have thought she’d come to help him or he’d have yelled.” Hutch was desperately trying to reason it out. He put his fingers to his forehead and then slapped his palm against his head. “He knew her and he thought she had come to get him out…she was one of them...Marcus must have sent her.” He was thinking aloud, pausing for each stage in the reasoning to come. “How long ago did she leave? Someone must have seen her go.”  
Dobey sighed. “I’ve already checked everything Hutch. She came in and asked at the desk where she could see her brother. The last person to see her go was the desk sergeant and he says she got into a green sedan but he didn’t catch the plates. And before you ask, he didn’t see the driver either.  
“I have to find Starsky. He’s in danger, I know he is.”  
“Did he call last night?”  
“No – I mean I don’t know; I met someone and, well you know…”  
Dobey looked at Hutch. The younger man seemed defeated and lost.  
“Go home; rest and be there when he calls tonight. And Hutch, make him tell you where he is.”  
“I’ll try Captain; but you know how stubborn he can be.”

Hutch sat and stared at the ‘phone. _Where are you Starsk?_

The call came around six pm.  
“Hutch?” Starsky’s voice was weak and hoarse. He sounded awful.  
“Starsk. Are you OK?”  
“No. I keep throwing up; I feel so weak.”  
“Where are you?”  
“I – I – uh – Hutch are you still there?”  
“Yes, I’m here. Starsky tell me where you are.”  
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” Starsky was sobbing quietly and Hutch waited.  
“What do you mean? Come on Starsky, get your act together. Where are you?”  
There was a short silence, but to Hutch it lasted a lifetime. He heard Starsky groan.  
Hutch yelled down the ‘phone. “Starsky! Starsky if you can hear me…call me tomorrow any time! You understand any time and I’ll be there.” He hoped that Starsky had heard and understood the code. If Starsky called Hutch at work he could try to trace the call.  
Hutch heard a rustle and Starsky’s voice came back on the line.  
“I’ll try to call….” Hutch heard him groan again. 

Two minutes later Hutch’s ‘phone rang again.  
“Starsk?”  
“The one who resisted is getting weak. Soon he will beg for deliverance and you will not be there to save him.” The line went dead.

  
The first thing Hutch did was to call Dobey and ask him to set up a tap on his own line in case Starsky called again that night. Once he was sure that Dobey would get on to it right away he decided to go down to the Pits and see if Huggy had heard anything about Marcus or Sears – or both.

Hutch was staring into the bottom of his beer glass; the ‘phone behind the bar rang and Huggy yelled to him from where he was taking an order from a table of six people, “get it willya Blondie!”  
Hutch went around behind the bar and picked up the ‘phone. It was Dobey.  
“Huggy, is Hutch there? I’ve been calling his place for a half hour.”  
“It’s me Captain. Did you get my line tapped?”  
“Yes. But right now that might not matter any more. I want you to meet me in Calabasas.” He gave Hutch the address.  
Hutch drove without knowing what he was doing; something in the tone of Dobey’s voice scared him. Why did he want Hutch to meet him in a remote street in the Valley? And why might it not matter any more if his line was tapped? _Oh god Starsky…_

Dobey was waiting for him by the side of the road. A car was on its side in the gulley that ran alongside the road and Hutch strained to see it clearly. Dobey touched his arm. “It’s a wreck Hutch. Whoever was in it didn’t stand a chance…”  
He pushed past the Captain, his eyes were stinging with tears and his heart beating as he ran to what he could now see was the burnt out carcass of the Torino. He pushed the lab technicians aside and stopped short. His legs gave out and he half fell half sat on the grassy bank and stared at the wreck. The roof was caved in and the steering wheel buckled. The whole of the front of the car had burned and the paint work was reduced to the gray-black stains of fire on metal. Dobey stood beside him. “I’m sorry son.”  
“Where is he?”  
“They’ve already taken him to the morgue.”  
“Are you sure it’s…”  
“The body was so badly burned even I couldn’t ID him Hutch.”  
Hutch stood up unsteadily and Dobey put out a hand to help him. He staggered to the car. “Hutch no!”  
“I have to Captain. I have to see if there’s anything to help me understand.”  
Dobey watched as Hutch walked to the passenger door and opened it with difficulty. Hutch stood up and looked again at the car. Something was wrong. He leaned in. The driver’s side dash was a melted jumble; the radio was a blob of distorted plastic and metal too. Somehow, the glove box was still there. Hutch opened it and sighed with relief. It was empty. No ammo, no flare, no book; in fact none of the stuff that should be in a police car. He looked at the rest of the inside of the car and spotted the giveaway sign that brought joy to his heart. He stood up again to call Dobey over. “Captain come and look at this.”  
Dobey shook his head and walked over to join Hutch. “What is it?”  
“It’s not Starsky’s car.”  
“Hutch you have to accept it…”  
“No Captain, look!” Hutch was pointing at something attached to the underside of what was left of the dash board. Dobey started to smile as Hutch pulled something out and held it up. “Starsky would never have had this in his car!” Dobey took the St Christopher magnet from Hutch and the two of them grinned with relief. Hutch’s smile soon faded. “If it isn’t Starsky’s car; then who is the corpse?”  
“We’ll get that checked out. I can’t believe there are others like this one – I thought Starsky had a custom paint job.”  
“It’s been done before Captain. But the last time they had it done by some backstreet body shop. This is perfect. Starsky told me that when he first saw the shot up Torino that time he knew there was something wrong…it was a detail. The stripe didn’t have a black outline…” Hutch was crouched looking at the side of the car. “This one has the black outline…Merle!”  
Dobey convinced Hutch to leave Merle until the morning; he could see how distressed Hutch was and he led him back to his own car. He detailed a uniformed officer to take Hutch’s car to Metro. “I’m taking you home with me Hutch. Edith will be happy to mother hen you a little!”  
Hutch was too tired and relieved but still too worried to resist.

  
****************************************************

Starsky was dreaming. He was sure it was a dream and he hoped it was. Marcus was sitting in his peacock chair smiling at him from inside the hood. Their eyes met and Starsky kept his gaze as steady as he could but his head was spinning and he just wanted to sleep.  
He knew that if he released his gaze he’d lose the game.  
He sipped from his water glass. In forty-eight hours all he’d managed to hold down (or in) was tiny sips of water. The pain and the cramps attacked him regularly and his gut felt like it had been pulled out through his ass; tied into knots and shoved back in again.  
He was burning up inside and freezing cold outside. His back ached and he put that down to crouching over the toilet bowl so often. He was sweating and trembling – or maybe shivering – but he was determined not to let go.  
“The one who resisted is losing his powers.”  
“Never! “  
“I have dreamed your pain. I have dreamed your nightmares. You will lose the power to resist and when you do the suffering will make you beg me to release you for once and for all.”

Starsky tossed and turned in his bed. He woke and sipped some water. The last nightmare seemed so real; but he knew that he hadn’t left his bed except to go to the bathroom and serve himself at the water cooler…he could hardly walk, he was so weakened by the spasms that emptied his gut. He’d been in bed for over twenty four hours. He looked at the clock. Four am; his witching hour when the nightmares woke him and he struggled to sleep again. But this time he had no trouble dozing off again; he was too weak to resist.

  
Hutch allowed Edith to make a fuss of him. Cal had enough homework to keep him in his room and Rosie was at her first pajama party. He sat and chatted politely with Edith and the Captain and then excused himself and went to bed.

*************************************************

Starsky was at the firing range. He fired and the silhouette came toward him on the rack. Six perfect holes in the centre of the target. He smiled and loaded his gun again.  
He pressed the button and the targets revolved again. He took aim and pulled the trigger. He dropped his gun and wept. Hutch hung slumped against the target!  
Starsky started running towards the target but when he arrived in front of it Hutch was gone. He turned to see his partner standing in the booth aiming his Colt at the target range. He screamed….  
Starsky sat up; his stomach was on fire and he was shaking. He could smell his own sweat – and worse; much worse. He cursed and pulled the sheets off the bed. He was too weak to deal with it now. He rinsed himself with the shower head and found clean pajama pants before dragging a blanket to the couch.

  
When he woke he had the impression that someone had been watching him as he slept. He checked the apartment. The chain was still on the door. He shook his head and walked painfully to the kitchen. He knew he had to try to eat something and he reached down the kosher cubes and filled the kettle. While the kettle boiled he prepared noodles and sipped his water.  
He sipped his soup and waited. He sipped again. So far the volcano in his gut was dormant. He went into the bathroom and threw the sheets down the stairs to the garage. He’d deal with the machine when he felt he had the strength to do down the stairs.  
He picked up the ‘phone. _I need Hutch, I need his strength._

The ‘phone rang in Hutch’s empty apartment. Starsky let it ring long enough for his friend to get out of the shower – but there was still no reply. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen and decided to wait a little before calling Hutch at his desk.  
He called Cindy but she wasn’t home either. She had an answering machine though in case the hospital needed her urgently. He left a message to say that he wasn’t feeling too good and he’d call when he felt better. “I think I have some kind of stomach bug. I hope I didn’t give it to you, but maybe you’d better stay away until it’s gone.”

  
Hutch had just walked into the room when his ‘phone rang. He dived across Starsky’s desk and grabbed the receiver.  
“Hutch.”  
“Starsk – you sound awful.”  
“I’ve been throwing up a lot. I tried to call last night but there was no reply.”  
“I was at Dobey’s. Listen Starsk are you sure you are OK?””  
“Yeah. Why were you at Dobey’s?”  
Hutch looked over to Baker who had started to trace the call. Baker signaled to keep it going.  
“Someone tried to make it look like you were killed in an accident with your car.” He couldn’t think of any other way to say it. He heard Starsky’s breath hiss in shock.  
“My car?”  
“Yes…except it wasn’t yours – there was a St Christopher in it!”  
Starsky chuckled. “A what? In _my_ car…never!”  
“I know; but someone went to a lot of trouble to get the paint job right this time. Didn’t you tell me that only Merle would put the black outline round the stripe?”  
“Yeah…you think Merle did the paint job?”  
“I don’t know – but if he did he must have been threatened or something. I’m going to see him later.”  
Starsky said nothing.  
“Starsk?”  
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I feel kind of sick again.” He groaned and Hutch looked with worried eyes at Baker shook his head.  
“Starsk?”  
“I gotta go throw up again Hutch…catch you later.” He cut the connection and Baker made a gesture of impatience.  
“We were about to get the trace Hutch dammit!”

Hutch was really worried now. Starsky sounded so sick and he couldn’t run to his side.  
He decided to go over to see if Merle could tell him anything about the set-up Torino.

Merle was under a lime-green 1955 Cadillac with a grape-colored flash across the hood. Hutch kicked one of the feet that were visible gently enough to attract the artist’s attention. Merle struggled out from under the car and when he saw Hutch he looked embarrassed.  
“I guess you know why I’m here?”  
“Hey man they threatened my kids.”  
“Who Merle? I’m not blaming you. I just need to know who ordered the paint job.”  
Merle gave him a perfect description of Simon Marcus. Hutch shuddered.  
“Where’s Starsky anyway? Someone fakes up his car I expect him to madder than a coyote with his foot in a trap.”  
“I wish I knew Merle. He wanted to take some time out and he won’t tell me where he is – but he’s sick. And someone is leaving clear messages that his life is in danger.”  
Hutch walked away and Merle observed how he walked like a man who was losing hope.

Hutch radioed in to Dobey. “I saw Merle…it was Marcus. He threatened Merle’s family and forced him to do the paint job.” He paused. “I guess Starsky hasn’t called in again?”  
“No son. If he does I’ll try to keep him on the line long enough.”

Hutch drove back to Metro with a heavy heart. If Starsky died he couldn’t go on. He wouldn’t have anything to drive him on any more. He’d been here before; sitting by Starsky’s bedside while his friend lay in a coma fighting to survive three bullets in the back. He tried to focus his mind but all he could think of was the silent still man lying in a bed with tubes coming out of his body keeping him alive.

He turned off at the next intersection and headed for The Pits. He needed a drink!

“He’s sick Huggy. He says he keeps throwing up. He’s been having nightmares for weeks now – hardly sleeps a night without them.” He hesitated and looked at the skinny black man who stuck with the two cops through thick and thin.  
“I just wish I could get to him. We’ve put a tap on my ‘phone and we almost had a trace at Metro – but he went to throw up again!”  
“Have you been over to his place?”  
“His car isn’t there.”  
Huggy said nothing. Hutch finished his beer and decided to go back to Metro and see if Starsky had called in again.

Huggy watched his friend leave. As soon as Anita arrived to work her shift Huggy left the bar. He drove over to the small house in the canyon where Starsky lived and parked in front of it. He moved quietly and walked round to peer through the garage window. He could see the sleek shape of the Torino – and he could hear the washing machine running. He ran up the front steps and knocked on the door. He waited. He thought he heard someone groaning and he checked under the plant pot by the door; the key was in its place and Huggy let himself in.  
Starsky was lying on the floor in the living room. Huggy noticed the acrid smell of urine in the air. There was a thin line of bile dribbling from Starsky’s mouth and he was semi-conscious. Huggy heaved him to the couch – and noted how painfully thin Starsky had become in such a short space of time. He called emergency and when he was satisfied that an ambulance was on its way he called Hutch.  
Hutch arrived with the ambulance on his tail.  
“How did you know he was here?”  
“I’ll explain later.”  
The ambulance crew came in with a stretcher. While one of the paramedics took Starsky’s vital signs the other inserted a needle in his forearm (Starsky moaned slightly to Hutch’s relief) and set up an IV saline drip. Hutch held Starsky’s hand as the crew maneuvered the stretched down the steps and into the ambulance. He climbed in and sat beside his partner; holding his hand and stroking his cheek. He tried to keep the tears at bay.

Once at the hospital the doctors took over. A nurse led Hutch to deal with the necessary paperwork and reassured him that he would be allowed to go to Starsky’s side as soon as all the formalities were cleared. 

Starsky was still unconscious. The doctors had ascertained that Starsky was suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration. One of them slipped a hypodermic into Starsky’s arm and the effect was unexpected. Starsky convulsed as if he had been electrocuted. The doctor immediately removed the syringe before any more of the drug could enter Starsky’s bloodstream;  
“What is it?” Hutch could hardly speak with fear.  
“I don’t know. We are going to have to run a full set of tests to find out. In the meantime I’m going to sedate him.”  
“I want to stay with him.”  
The doctor had dealt with Starsky and Hutch enough times to know that how important it was to Hutch.  
“Of course. Watch over him; if he starts to react in any way ring for the nurse.” He took a blood sample from Starsky’s arm and left the room.

***************************************************

Unconscious but stuck in a nightmare Starsky was running again. He was running a few inches above the ground; flying through the darkness and this time he was not the hunted but the pursuer.  
The hooded figure was ahead of him he knew that if he could just catch up... _If he’s running from me he knows I can destroy him._  
He ran faster and soon he was alongside his prey. Marcus turned to face him.

Hutch noticed his friend stir in the bed. He touched Starsky’s cheek gently; the fever was going down. He settled in the chair for the long vigil that would bring his partner back to him again.

Starsky woke and saw Hutch sitting by his side. He tried to lift his head from the pillow but it felt like a lead weight and his vision was blurry. He had a nagging pain in his abdomen and he felt bilious again. He opened his eyes again and saw that it was still dark outside; he didn’t want to wake Hutch and he slipped back to sleep.  
He did wake Hutch though – not intentionally.  
The sound of Starsky groaning woke his partner and Hutch looked in horror as Starsky’s body jolted with convulsions again. He reached for the buzzer and within seconds the nurse was beside the bed. She took one look at her patient and handed Hutch a tongue depressor. “Put that in his mouth so he doesn’t bite or swallow his tongue. I’ll be right back.”  
She left the room with that calm haste that Hutch had long ago learned goes with emergency procedures in a hospital. His mother’s voice echoed in his head. “Don’t rush at it Kenny, more haste less speed.” He put the tongue depressor between Starsky’s strong teeth and sat holding it in place and stroking his partner’s cheek.

The doctor had the toxicology report. He took one look at Starsky who had stopped convulsing and was now pale yellowish color and his skin looked waxy; he was breathing unsteadily. “He’s slipping into a coma.” He turned to the nurse and gave her a set of brief instructions and she left the room.

“Do you have any idea how long this has been going on?”  
“No.” Hutch shook his head sadly. He wanted to be on his own for a while – he seemed OK a couple of days ago when he called me. What’s the matter with him doc?”  
“Poison. The results of the test are one hundred percent; it’s a poison derived from a mushroom.”  
Hutch looked at him in disbelief. “A mushroom! Starsky eats them on pizzas but that’s about all.”  
“This isn’t a mushroom he’d have eaten on a pizza. It’s a poison…the full name is  
Amanita Ocreata and the poison works in four stages and that’s why I need to know how long this has been going on. The convulsions and the coma are a later stage in the sequence...but I have to be sure. I have to find the right treatment to save his liver and his kidneys – and to be honest I think we may be too late for the kidneys. The blood work shows a high level of uremia in his blood and that means his kidneys aren’t functioning as they should. The problem is that we have no way of knowing how he could have ingested this poison.”  
“I know he had a couple of stomach upsets…oh my god, do you think someone has been trying to poison him over a longer period?”  
“It’s possible. If you don’t eat together – at work or afterwards – where is he likely to go?”  
“Starsky cooks for himself and he has a girlfriend who cooks too.” Hutch stood up. “I think I should go over to his place and see what I can find.”  
“I’ll arrange for someone from our lab to come with you – we’ve identified the poison, he’ll know what to look for.”  
Hutch agreed to wait while the doctor made the arrangements and ten minutes later he was driving to Starsky’s apartment with a technician sitting beside him.  
“The analysis indicates that he has been taking the poison in very small doses. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing. It’s kind of like looking for a needle in a haystack.”  
“You don’t know Starsky. He’s a neatness freak. His kitchen is always clean and tidy and he throws out anything that looks moldy. If something is out of place, I’ll know.”

**********************************************

Hutch let them into the apartment and led the technician to the kitchen. They checked the fridge. The technician took samples of everything and set up his testing kit on the counter. Fifteen minutes later everything in Starsky’s fridge had tested negative for the poison. They moved on to the dry goods and the opened bottles of olive oil, vinegar, ketchup and the jars of mustard and mayonnaise and all the jellies and spreads that Starsky had in his cupboards. Nothing!  
The technician was testing a sample of Starsky’s toothpaste; but once again he got a negative showing.  
Hutch stood and stared at the kitchen. The clue had to be somewhere. He wandered around the apartment looking to see if in his sickness Starsky had left a plate of food or an empty glass somewhere. He spotted the glass on the night-stand. He snapped his fingers and went back into the kitchen. Starsky had changed the bottle on the cooler only a couple of days before he testified; Hutch looked at the level…it was obvious that Starsky had been drinking a lot of water in the past few days. He called the technician.  
“Test the water in the cooler.”  
Hutch stood holding his breath; the technician looked up and smiled: “bingo! It’s a very small dose and diffused in all that water it worked slowly.”

Hutch drove the technician back to the hospital and checked in with the doctor. Starsky was on dialysis as a precaution against kidney failure. Hutch looked at his friend lying connected to a machine by a tube filled with his blood. He felt the tears burning behind his eyelids. “Is he going to have to go through that for the rest of his life?”  
“No. It’s a precaution – you could say that it’s a way of cleaning out his body. If the toxins have reached his kidneys we can probably flush them out.”  
“And if you can’t?”  
“If we can’t he’ll either need dialysis regularly or maybe a transplant. But don’t worry Hutch. A healthy man like Starsky can operate on half of one kidney if that kidney isn’t damaged.”  
“You mentioned other effects that the poison can have.”  
“The convulsions for one; he’s slightly jaundiced, and that could indicate liver damage, once again we’ll have to wait and see. While you were away he seemed to be having a nightmare…”  
“A nightmare. He’s had a lot of those lately he…” Hutch stammered slightly, “h-he t-told me that he was h-having trouble sleeping through the night because of them.”  
“That’s another effect of this poison – hallucinations and neurological problems. Has he mentioned dizzy spells or anything like that?”  
“No.”  
“We’ve started to give him the antidote. We should see results soon.” He paused to read the full report that the lab had just sent of the analysis of the water in Starsky’s cooler.  
“He’s been ingesting it in highly diluted amounts; that’s a good sign. I think Starsky will pull through. I’m going to adjust the antidote dosage now I know what the dilution was.”

An orderly knocked at the door. “Detective Hutchinson, Captain Dobey wants you at Metro.”  
Hutch went over to the bed and touched Starsky’s arm. “I’ll be back as soon as I can and when I do I want to see those blue eyes open.” He whispered. He thought he saw Starsky smile.

************************************************************

Dobey’s first question was to ask how Starsky was doing; Hutch filled him in on the findings of the toxicology tests.  
“How in the hell did they get the poison in there?”  
“And who are ‘they’?” Hutch added. “Damn; I didn’t think of fingerprints! Captain we need someone to go over there and check the cooler. They’ll have to get the technician’s prints to count him out, and mine and Starsky’s will be on the tap and the bottle – I helped him change it.”  
Dobey made the call.  
“We know who the body in the Torino was.”  
“Who?”  
“One of Marcus’ followers. We got the girl who killed Sears. She told us that Marcus had dreamed the end of – and I quote – ‘the one who resists’. He said that this person would soon be ready to beg for deliverance.”  
“That’s what he said to me – he called me and said something like that. I guess he was poisoning Starsky.”  
“Apparently the plan was to use the Torino to kidnap you and lure Starsky to his death. Only thing was they didn’t know it had a bad fuel line; the guy driving was smoking, he threw the butt out of the window and the car exploded!”  
“And Marcus is still out there?”  
“Yes, he got away again. But there’s something interesting. The girl – calls herself Songbird – said that he went into one of his trances and he seemed as if he’d seen something he didn’t want to see. She said he pulled back as if someone tried to touch him.”  
“One of the rules was that no-one touched him – unless he was going to fuck someone.” Hutch said carefully. “I wonder what is happening in his dreams right now.”

They were about to find out some of the answers.

  
*******************************************

  
The orderly assigned to watching Starsky’s dialysis noticed that the patient seemed distressed. He called the doctor and the two of them watched as Starsky showed all the signs of a nightmare. He was restless and his eyes were moving rapidly behind the tightly closed lids. He was sweating.

  
The call came in at almost the same time that the orderly buzzed for the doctor. Marcus had been spotted in a park. Hutch and Dobey were on their way.

Hutch pulled up behind the Black and White and asked the officer where Marcus was now.  
“He’s over there; by the rose garden.”  
Hutch drew his gun and checked it; Dobey did the same. The split up and Dobey took cover behind a small palm tree. Hutch slipped the big Colt into the back of his waistband and the memory of Starsky’s voice echoed in his mind. _One of these days one of us will shoot himself in the balls; and then what will he do for fun?_  
He walked towards Marcus who was standing apparently in conversation with …with no-one. Marcus was alone. Hutch listened.  
“The one who resisted will beg for deliverance.”

_Starsky was staring at Marcus. He could see the dark eyes glowing inside the hood and he fixed them with his own steady gaze.  
“The one who resisted will beg for deliverance.”  
Starsky knew what he had to do…he reached out._

Hutch watched Marcus again. He seemed to pull away from something.  
“It is forbidden to touch the Great One.”

_“The Great One? You? A goon in an oversized bathrobe!”  
“You will beg.”  
“Not me!”  
Starsky continued to stare into the dark eyes. He had to keep his concentration; he’d done it before – “check mate!”  
He reached out again and this time his fingers felt the rough fabric of the robe’s sleeve.  
“It is forbidden to touch the Great One.”_

It happened so quickly Hutch would never really understand what he saw. One minute Marcus was standing and talking to Mr. Invisible; the next he was cowering. Hutch took his opportunity and stepped forward…

_Starsky reached out and this time he touched Marcus on the arm. The hooded figure pulled away hissing.  
“Not so invincible now are you?” Starsky didn’t release the dark eyes from his own gaze.  
“Who’s the great one now Marcus. You or me?”_

Marcus didn’t even try to resist. Hutch saw that he was holding his arm as if it had been wounded. Hutch flipped out his cuffs and started to recite Miranda.

_The hooded figure melted like the Wicked Witch when Dorothy threw a bucket of water over her._

Starsky seemed calm again. The pulse rate monitor was bleeping slower now. He had a slight smile on his lips.  
Check Mate. Game Set and Match!

Hutch led Marcus to the Black and White and Dobey rode back to Metro with the prisoner and the uniformed officers. Hutch went straight to the hospital.

Starsky was awake. He was pale and drawn but he was awake and alert.  
“How are you feeling buddy?”  
“Doc says I’ll live.”  
“I have some good news. We arrested Marcus.”  
“I’m glad to hear that – I had so many nightmares about him. Doc says it was part of the effect of the poison. I even thought he was in my apartment once – we were playing chess. But it was just one of the dreams.”  
“He got in at least once. They found his prints on the water cooler.”  
Starsky said nothing and Hutch could see he was thinking about something. “I thought I heard the door close.”  
“When?”  
“I came back up from the garage and…”  
Hutch cut him off. “Tell me about that garage. How come I never knew you had use of the garage? I mean I came by to see if you were home and I didn’t see the car and, well I reckoned you really were in a motel.”  
“I didn’t tell you because you never asked. Anyway, I keep the car in there sometimes – but I also have the washing machine down there.”  
“Washing machine?”  
Starsky smiled. “I have my private life you know!”

  
**************************************************

  
Starsky wasn’t out of the woods yet. The effects of the poison were still giving him nightmares but the doctor had entirely ruled out the possibility of long-term damage to his kidneys and liver.  
His tortured digestive system wasn’t ready yet to deal with solid foods and he was being fed something that resembled Hutch’s morning glop  
The doctor was still keeping a close eye on Starsky’s recovery. “This poison can work in odd ways. Some people who had as much as he did would have been dead within four days; Starsky has a good metabolism and a strong constitution – so he fought it off. But the next twenty four hours are important – either he’s out of danger or he’s going to relapse…and if he does, I can’t be sure of the outcome.”  
Hutch looked at Starsky who was again sleeping apparently peacefully.  
“Even if he is through the danger period it will be at least two weeks before he is fit to work again. One of the things that worries me is the weight loss. Your friend is unnaturally thin.”  
Hutch looked again at the quiet figure on the bed.  
“He was already losing weight before this happened. I thought it was because of the nightmares but maybe they’d already got to him.”  
“It’s possible – but how long had you noticed this?”  
“A couple of weeks….”  
“Then he couldn’t have been given the same poison – he’d be dead by now.” The doctor saw that his bluntness had shocked the usually calm Hutch. “It is possible, however, that he was given something else before this particular poison. Unfortunately there’s no way of knowing. Tell me about the nightmares.”  
“I’ve known him for years and we confide in each other; he told me that he was having scary nightmares. I spoke to his girlfriend yesterday. She told me that in the past couple of weeks he hasn’t gotten through one night without a bad dream. She said he’s sleep-walking too.”  
“We’ll see how he recovers – he may need to talk to a psychologist. He certainly won’t be fit to work for at least two weeks.”  
“Does he have to stay here for two weeks?”  
“No. I want to keep him in for another few days – unless his condition deteriorates in the next twenty four hours - if he’s better in a day or two he can go home.”  
Hutch mentally crossed his fingers.

The next day when Hutch arrived at the hospital he went straight to Starsky’s room as usual. Starsky was sitting up looking like a kid who’d been told that Santa really existed. “I can go home!”  
Hutch helped him out of bed and fetched his clothes from the closet. He grinned at the memory of rushing Starsky into the hospital as an emergency and forgetting to bring his clothes. Starsky’s explosion had reduced everyone to the giggles in the end.  
Starsky was still feeling weak and he didn’t put up any opposition to be taken to the car in a wheelchair. Hutch arranged his friend in the passenger seat and ran round to the driver’s side.  
“Cindy’s waiting for you.”

Hutch helped Starsky up the stairs to his apartment; Cindy was there to greet him and together she and Hutch got him into bed.  
Hutch could see that for the moment his presence was not required.

Cindy undressed and slipped into the bed next to Starsky.  
“I’m glad you’re feeling better’ she said with a grin.”  
“It’s great to be home.”  
He took her in his arms and they made love all morning.

  
*********************************************************  
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